Forever Silent
by ATudorRose
Summary: The crushing weight of Lady Mary's life becomes too much to bear. The tale of her tragic end and the reaction of he who was closest to her. Caution: includes character death. New chapter up, please review!
1. Escape

**I'll not pretend this is a happy story. It's also very dramatic and probably not very realistic, so you have been warned. That being said, I've always wanted to try a character death, so I challenged myself to write one with absolutely no dialogue ( something I've also wanted to do) and obviously the ridiculously dramatic side of me choose the character whose death would be the result of romantic entanglements. Sorry about that. **

**This could really be set pretty much anywhere in series 2, in my mind it's after episode 8 but there are no spoilers for those who have yet to see the whole series. Please review, I really don't know what to think of this and your opinion would be very much appreciated.**

**Get out your tissues and enjoy! **

Lady Mary sat in her father's library staring at the wall. She hadn't even bothered with the pretense of a book, she just sat and stared blankly as she vaguely listened to the sounds of the house and all its inhabitants move around her, all completely unaware of the silent prison she was trapped in. Her father came in and sat down at his desk. She didn't say a word. Her mother and Grandmother came in and sat on the couches by the fire, gossiping madly. She didn't say a word. Carson walked in and began to talk to Lord Grantham about some matters of the house. Mary didn't say a word. For reasons unknown, it wasn't until she heard her Grandmother's disapproval of Aunt Rosamund's new beau, did she come out of her trance. Mary remained silent but her eyes darted about the room with growing panic as she felt her whole world seize her with a suffocating grip; the new beau, the matters of the house, her duty to the estate, her duty to her family, Sir Richard, Pamuk, _Matthew_. Her eyes flew to the old tome of Greek myths. Andromeda, sacrificed for her family and her kingdom; Andromeda chained to a rock. Suddenly the room was unbearably hot and stuffy, the voices of her family painfully loud in her ears. She felt as if the room was closing in on her, the weight of the great house falling onto her shattered spirit. She had to get out. Trapped in her silence, she stood, swaying dangerously with the rush of blood to her head. Mary walked slowly out of the room but broke into a run as soon as she was out in the corridor. Her feet pounded on the polished floor, echoing off the walls and filling her head with noise. She flew down the stairs and pushed her way through the heavy front doors, feeling no relief in the rush of cold December air. She continued to run, starting to feel the effects of skipping breakfast and not touching her lunch as blood was frantically pumped throughout her body. She didn't know where she was going; only that she had to get as far away from the house, from her life, as possible. Her feet carried her across the fields and off the grounds, into the village. Her vision blurred until she could no longer see, and blindly, Mary continued to run. Out of the village, back into some fields, she no longer had any idea of her location. Her dress became torturously heavy and the pins in her scrapped against her head as they came loose, letting large sections of hair fall out of the tightly twisted bun at the nape of her neck. Someone called out to her, someone out walking in the fields. It was a familiar voice, one that sliced open her heart every time it graced her ears. The voice broke her concentration now, causing her to stumble and fall wildly to the ground. Mary heard footsteps approaching her and again she felt crushed, bowing over as if the weight she felt in the library had followed her, merely waiting for her to stop running so it could smother her once more. That voice called out to her again and Mary's stomach turned over. She threw up violently on the ground before her. Over and over her stomach retched, ridding her of every last morsel of food in her, and then the convulsions continued, trying to rid her body of all the heartbreak and misery that plagued her soul. Mary's throat and nose burned, her body shaking uncontrollably with every retch. She wasn't getting enough air, desperately gasping for breath whenever her body calmed for just a moment. It wasn't enough. Finally, when her body gave up and there was nothing left inside, the retching ceased and Mary fell limp, becoming aware of the strong hands that held her up, the voice which had previously torn her apart torn her apart now talking to her and soothing her with its rich clarity. As Mary felt herself being cradled in his arms, being warmed against his chest; her breathing slowed and faltered, the crushing weight lifted as a glorious lightness came over her body. Feeling completely calm and content for the first time in God knows how many years; she cleared her vision and stared up into the eyes that had haunted her dreams for the last five years. Lost in the intense crystal blue of Matthew's eyes, she felt no pain or hurt or resentment, just love. And it was this honest, pure love that occupied her last thoughts as the life that had pushed her past the point of endurance slowly left her. She was finally at peace.

Lady Mary Crawley would remain forever silent.

**I am sorry. This is of course, not at all what I want (or wanted) to happen. The idea was just bouncing around in my head and refusing to go away, so I tried it out. I have never written anything like this before and I'm not sure that I am completely satisfied with the last few lines so, if you don't already hate me, reviews would really, **_**really**_** mean a lot to me. I was just so fed up of Mary never doing anything rash and always holding that perfect mask of composure, I suppose I just really want to see her crack; I think it would make her character a little more human in a way. I am also thinking of doing something on Matthew's reaction to Mary's death, so if you would like to see that, please let me know your thoughts. Suggestions are greatly encouraged! **

**ATudorRose **


	2. Damaged

**After a few requests and much encouragement, I give you the first installment in Matthew's reaction to Mary's tragic end. Before you read, there is one major setting detail you need to know: what you are about to read is Matthew's dream on the night of Mary's death. I hope you enjoy and are not **_**too**_** freaked out by the end. This was originally a one-shot, but apparently I am incapable of actually writing a one-shot and then leaving it alone. **

**Without further ado…**

_Matthew listened to the faint squelch of his footfalls as he trudged forward and surveyed the barren landscape before him. The empty battlefield stretched out endlessly and he could see for miles; flat, empty land that had been blown to pieces in a battle that had surely taken place. He walked aimlessly, having nowhere to go and no place to return to. Remnants of barbed wire fences and the destroyed tangles of machine gun metal littered the earth, accompanied only by scattered remains of uniforms and tiny personal belongings. Smoke hung in the air and the stench of blood was heavy in his nose, but there was not a soul to be seen. The trenches were deserted, guns and ammunition left lying on the floor as if the soldiers had just vanished without a moment's notice. The earth was still under his feet, leaving an unsettling feeling in the absence of artillery fire – something that had come to be expected in such a place. A gentle wind swayed the dirty hairs on his head, ghosting over the deserted front and ushering in a fine mist that blew up and over the scraps of battle, swirling at his feet and clouding the horrible world in front of him. However, he couldn't be comforted by the calm or the silence… something was off. There was an eerie, unnerving air curling around him, seeping through his uniform and touching his bones, caused by what – he did not know. Maybe it was the mist, cutting him off from his surroundings; or maybe it was the fact he was all alone, something that had never before occurred in this retched land. He looked down when his foot kicked something hard, releasing the dull clank of metal into the stillness around him. A crumpled, bashed in helmet rest in the dirt, a single bullet hole piercing the rusty metal. A painless death. _

_ Matthew was so absorbed in the fate of the unknown soldier that he didn't hear the footsteps approach him from behind. Or perhaps the footsteps were so soft and dainty that there wasn't a sound to be heard. Gentle fingers brushed his back and danced across the exposed skin at the top of his uniform, sending shivers right through to his spin with their icy touch. Despite the cold, they were familiar and comforting; and Matthew found his tension relaxing slightly when they came to rest on his shoulder. He let his eyes fall shut as he concentrated on the one thing that could bring him peace. But there was nothing dainty or gentle about the way the hand suddenly hardened into a death grip, nails cutting through his clothing and scraping his skin. Before he could register anything but pure shock, a gleaming dagger struck him, propelled with such force that it made quick work of his uniform and lodged solidly in between his shoulder blades, sending shockwaves of staggering pain throughout every nerve in his body. Looking down in shock, Matthew could see the shinning end of the dagger protruding from his chest, right where his heart should be._

"_This dagger has belonged to my family for centuries," a voice floated in his ear. "My father told me its story one night. Would you like to hear it?" it asked. The voice was as soft as silk, slipping into his ear and possessing the deep melody of another woman he knew, but its strength was not all there. The haughty confidence that once ruled her voice had transformed into a sinister undertone, as dark and malicious as the wraith it now belonged to. Her voice lingered in his ear._

"_Once upon a time, in the Kingdom of the Britons; Elaine of Astolat drove this very dagger into her own heart after being spurned by her one true love, the knight Lancelot. She commanded that her body be laid in a barge, which carried her downriver to Camelot. Her body was greeted with tremendous sorrow and a guilt-stricken Lancelot paid for a grand funeral, ensuring that Elaine would forever lay in comfort." The wraith came around to face him, "I always admired her strength." _

_She had Mary's fine face and her willowy figure, standing tall and proud. Her ebony hair lay across her slender shoulders and fluttered about her face, setting off her porcelain skin. A white dress billowed and swirled around her, the cloth so fine and thin that it was almost indistinguishable from the mist that tumbled around her, falling over her shoulders and making her look like a medieval faerie. But her eyes were a deadly black._

"_There was something my father never told me though. Women whom sacrifice themselves in the name of their loves are not greeted at the gates of Camelot with fanfare and reverence. They are banished to the depths of the darkest forests, forced to spend the rest of eternity as Wilis – the lonely spirits of heartbroken maidens, dead before the chime of their wedding bells. The Wilis wander the forests, draining the life of any man who is unfortunate enough to come across one during the early hours of the morning. A horrible fate Cousin Matthew, wouldn't you agree?" As she spoke his name, a red flower began to unfold over her heart; in the exact place the dagger had pierced his skin. It grew bigger, staining her dress and trickling down her front, carving intricate patterns on the filmy material. This was no flower. Matthew looked down at his own chest and noticed that although the dagger still rose from his heart, it was gleaming silver and not a single drop of blood had been spilt from his own body, despite the pain. Meanwhile the red on Mary's dress was spreading rapidly, and when he frantically sought her eyes, he was astonished to watch them return to their beautiful chestnut before evanescing into a piercing blue that reflected his own._

"_You have condemned me."_

_Matthew stared into his own eyes for a fleeting moment before they rolled back into her head as a sudden gust of wind reduced her to ashes, carrying her away with three final words._

"_**You killed me." **_

**So there we have it. I do hope you are all still breathing ;). **

**Let me just say that this NEVER WOULD HAVE HAPPENED without the amazing help and encouragement from ****That'sLadySeaMonsterToYou****, she read this countless times, gave me priceless advice, made sense of my jumbled rambling, and gave me the courage to post this. Because of you, I still have a full head of hair. So thank you. (even though that doesn't even begin to cover it)**

**There is definitely more in store, so PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE (!) share your thoughts with me and leave a review! I would really appreciate it :))**__


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